


Let it (Grey)Snow

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A lot of kissing, Christmas prompts, M/M, Some Fluff, Some Romance, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Christmassy/wintery prompts for my OTP (please forgive the terrible pun in the title 🙈)1. Home: Theon comes home for Christmas2. Mistletoe: Theon is desperate to kiss Jon3. Turkey: Jon makes Christmas dinner and needs to relax4. Holidays: Theon is wrapping presents. Jon wants to do something else5. Now: An invitation to the Starks and the second part of a Christmas deal (The Office verse)6. Gift: Theon needs a Christmas present for Jon,pronto7. Mulled Wine: Jon wants his wine, and he knows just how to get what he wants from Theon8. Puppy: Theon gave Jon a present that comes to bite him in the arse (not literally - not yet at least)
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Comments: 96
Kudos: 53





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi dears! I hope you are doing well and have a good December! 
> 
> Mid November I had to realize that I won't be able to write a continuous Christmas fic this year. I'm really sad about that, since I already had one in planning and all that. Alas, it just wasn't possible, so I'm going to continue it over the next year and save it for Xmas 2021! 
> 
> But!!! There can't be a season without any Greysnowing from me, so I thought I'd do a few prompts! I do hope you enjoy what I made of the ones I have gotten so far. I'll post them until the end of December.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a kisses prompt from a lovely anon on tumblr: 
> 
> 2\. moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed
> 
> Nonnie, I hope this is a little like you expected/wanted! Got a bit angsty I know 🙈

He can hear the music coming from the flat as soon as he steps out of the elevator. Jon’s favourite Christmas playlist, probably playing on repeat since the morning. It’s the twenty-fourth. Usually they would decorate the tree now, sing along to the songs, drink mulled cider… they’d place the presents for each other under the tree, then move to the couch and watch the classics before they’d go to bed, Jon in his arms, smelling of fir needles and cloves and cinnamon and home. 

Theon’s hand with the key hesitates, trembles. There, behind this door, is everything he could ever want. Everything he’d thought he couldn’t bear. Everything he’d thrown away, scared of his own happiness, scared of his own shadow. A deep breath. The key still fits in the lock, after almost ten months, as if Theon had never closed that door for what he’d thought would be forever. And now he’s coming back, tail between his legs, hoping against all odds that there’s still a chance for them. 

The smell is the first thing Theon notices, spices and gingerbread. It smells like Christmas. It still smells like home. Familiar sounds are coming from the living room, clinking and clanking and Jon’s voice, off-key and loud. 

“Ding dong, merrily on high, lalalalalaaala!”

Theon smiles to himself as he toes off his shoes, hangs his coat on the hook it belongs on. Nothing has changed. Jon still hasn’t memorized the correct lyrics to his favourite carols. Silent on socked feet, Theon walks into the living room, almost forgetting how to breathe at the sight that is presenting itself to him: warm lights, decorations everywhere, embers glowing in the fireplace… and Jon. He’s got his back to Theon, flinging lametta on the tree with abandon while humming along to Good King Wenceslas, and Theon’s heart aches with longing. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. 

For a moment Jon seems frozen to the spot, unmoving, shoulders stiff and his back gone rigid. Time stands still, even the music seems softer. Finally he moves, slowly turning around. His face is a mask of shock, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide and disbelieving. As if he’s seeing a ghost. 

“I’ve come home,” Theon says, superfluous and ridiculous. He lets his bag drop to the floor. “If I still have – if you still want me.”

Jon doesn’t answer, swallows again and again, still staring at Theon as if unsure he’s really there.

“I should never have left. I can’t even begin – I’m so sorry.” Theon smiles, a weak, self-deprecating smile. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

At that Jon makes a noise, a strange little chirp, he takes a step, two, and then he’s there, his hands fisting in Theon’s jumper. Theon doesn’t move away, doesn’t try to defend himself. If Jon wants to yell at him he deserves it. If Jon wants to spit in his face he deserves that too, and more. 

“You fucking idiot,” Jon whispers. “You goddamn, _fucking_ idiot.” 

And then he’s kissing Theon, pulling him down against his mouth so hard it hurts. Theon stumbles, shock surging through him at the suddenness of it. Jon’s lips move against his, sliding, parting, his tongue forcing its way into Theon’s mouth and finally it clicks. With a gasp Theon lets him in, pushes back, hard enough to make Jon groan. He licks into Theon’s mouth, his hands wandering to his neck, tangling in his hair, gripping, pulling, the kiss deepening until Theon doesn’t know where he ends and Jon begins, and still it’s not enough. 

Jon’s knee pushes Theon’s thighs apart, upsetting his balance and making him sway, but Jon keeps them upright, his hands roaming down Theon’s back and under his shirt, rucking it up, and Theon lifts his arms, loathing the half second it takes to get the shirt over his head, half a second of not having Jon’s lips on his own. He moves back in greedily, licking, biting, moaning into Jon’s mouth, tearing at his clothes, frantic and urgent. Jon takes a step back, tripping over Theon’s bag still sitting on the floor and taking Theon with him as they twirl around themselves, almost crashing into the tree. 

“Jon,” Theon pants, only leaving Jon's mouth long enough for a deep breath, a few whispered words. “I need you. I’m so sorry.” 

Jon doesn’t answer and Theon dives back in, open-mouthed, breathless kisses, his hands working Jon’s belt open, undoing the zip and tearing his trousers down, then his own. They stumble again, over a wrapped parcel, almost falling, but this time Theon is the one to steady them, crowding Jon against the wall, one hand in his hair, the other on his cock, his tongue in Jon’s mouth and his heart in Jon’s hands. 

“Gods,” Jon whispers, moans, hoarse and raw, “gods, Theon–”

“I’m coming home.” Theon laughs, kisses Jon once more, hard, urgent. “If you want me? Can I come home?” 

Jon’s eyes slide shut; a tiny nod, almost unnoticeable, but it’s all Theon needs. He pulls Jon close, closer, taking one step back and dragging Jon with him, a few more steps, through an open door and they’re in the bedroom and he pushes Jon down onto the bed, _their_ bed, with Theon’s pillow still where it always used to be. He’s over Jon in a heartbeat, covering his naked body with his own, skin on skin, nothing left between them but heat and want and an overwhelming sense of home. 

Muscle memory kicks in and Theon blindly reaches out to the side, into the drawer where he knows he’ll find lube. He kisses Jon’s mouth, his nose, his closed eyes as he slicks his fingers and drives them into Jon’s welcoming heat, impatient and rough. Jon cries out, moving his hips, clenching tight around Theon’s fingers drilling into him, spreading him open fast and good. 

“Please, Theon,” Jon whispers, almost sobs. “I need – please…”

His eyes open, wet and full of a love Theon knows he doesn’t deserve, making him shudder with regret and desperate want. He’ll do anything to deserve it. Theon gives Jon’s cock a couple of quick strokes before taking his own cock, lining up with Jon’s hole. He’s so tight, just like he’d been at their first time, and Theon bends his head, swallowing Jon’s guttural cry as he pushes into him in one, slick glide, only stilling when he’s fully seated. 

“Jon,” Theon whispers, kissing him once again, long and deep, his hands cradling Jon’s face, his thumbs wiping away Jon’s tears. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Jon.” 

Jon’s arms come up, slinging around Theon’s neck and pulling him down and Theon starts to move, rolling his hips, sliding out of Jon and back inside, back home. He kisses away Jon’s gasps and cries, moving faster, his chest almost bursting with love, with the sense of being home, finally, once and for all. Jon tenses beneath him, his head falling back and he screams, wetness spilling between them and Theon lets go, a last erratic thrust and he fills Jon with his seed, clings to him, whispers his name over and over, _I love you, Jon, I love you so much._

It takes a long time until their breaths come normally, until their heartbeats have quieted down. Jon lies very still in Theon’s arms, his eyes still closed. Theon’s eyes are wide open, greedily drinking in the sight of Jon, his fingers drawing patterns all over Jon’s skin. There’ll have to be a lot of talking, more apologies, a lot of time to gain back Jon’s trust. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be worth it. 

“I fear I don’t have a Christmas present for you,” Theon says when the silence gets too heavy. “I’m sorry.” 

There’s a long pause, but finally Jon turns his face to Theon, opens his eyes.

“You’re kidding,” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You come back after two hundred and thirty-eight days of silence, and you don’t even bring a gift?” 

“Two hundred and thirty-eight days,” Theon says, “eleven hours, and twenty-three minutes. And I’m going to make it up to you, minute for minute, for as long as it takes.”

“That’s going to be _really_ fucking long.”

And then Jon truly smiles, the sight of it making the tight feeling in Theon’s chest almost too much to bear and he buries his face in Jon’s neck. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Jon’s skin. 

“Welcome home.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! Prompt nr 2 for this came from @imacreepygirl on tumblr for the kisses prompts: 
> 
> hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp

The dance begins the moment Theon arrives at the Starks and finds Jon already there, in the living room with Arya tucked under his arm and a cup of mulled cider in his hand, giving Theon a guarded nod as a way of greeting, his eyes hooded and dark, the slightest frown to his mouth. It commences over the next hours, during the hellos and the catching up, sneaked looks and colouring cheeks and the hint of a smile when he thinks Theon isn’t looking. Later the dance will get more intricate, tension rising in Theon and around them as they pass each other in the hallways, happen upon each other in the kitchen and then at night in their respective rooms. 

It’s nothing new, this tiptoeing around each other, the air growing heavier as the hours go past, fingers touching fleetingly at the breakfast table, sparks gathering under Theon’s skin whenever their eyes lock, a frustrated rush when Jon looks away, eyes cast down, teeth worrying his bottom lip. It’s the same every time, whenever they meet here, whenever they’re under the same roof. Usually Theon waits for it, is looking forward to it for months beforehand, counting the days until the holidays have come and he’ll see him again, three days of delicious tension and breathless anticipation – but not this year. 

This year it suddenly feels different, throwing Theon off track. The tension is there, making his skin prickle, making him feel hot all over. But this time there is something else too, an unsettling sense of impatience, a strange desire to end the game one way or another. Theon knows which way he’d prefer, but this isn’t up to him, it’s up to Jon. And Jon doesn’t say a word, doesn’t do anything more, and the tension grows into the unbearable. There’s got to be a way forward. Yes or no. Now or never. In or out. 

And then the opportunity to find out is there, just like that, when Jon has gone for a walk with Robb and the kids and Theon is prowling the house, anxiously waiting for their return. Sansa comes in from the garden, a basket full of mistletoe under her arm. She winks at him, mischief clear in her eyes as she hangs bushels of them above every single doorway as Theon follows her through the rooms, watching in disbelief. 

“This ought to do it,” she says when she’s put the last few twigs above the living room door, regarding her work with satisfaction. “Else one of you or the house could spontaneously catch fire.” 

“Minx,” Theon declares, and Sansa squeaks in surprise as he pulls her into a one-armed hug, placing a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Seems to work, I’ll give you that.” 

“Letch,” she smiles, giving Theon an encouraging thumbs-up. “They’re going to come back soon. Wait until the others are inside then ambush your prey.”

Easier said than done, as it turns out. When Jon and the others do come back, Theon finds himself roped into building a snowman with Bran, Rickon and Arya, and by the time they’re done building the ugliest Snowman the world has ever seen, Jon has vanished in his room, only emerging when it’s time for dinner. There’s a mistletoe in the doorway leading to the kitchen, but the moment Theon so much as looks at it, Catelyn slams a plate overflowing with spaghetti in front of him, and by the time he looks up Jon is already settled in his seat and the chance is missed again. 

It seems absolutely jinxed. After dinner Robb insists on playing Activity, and on their way to the living room – passing _three_ mistletoes – Arya is seated on Jon’s shoulders, and that’s a hard no right there. No kissing with a haughty tween staring down at you, definitely not. Theon’s spirits sink as the evening progresses; he’s hardly able to concentrate on the games; every look Jon gives him feels like added torment. It’s fucking hell. 

At one point Jon excuses himself, and for a very ridiculous moment Theon wants to run after him, corner his quarry once and for all, but then it wouldn’t be very romantic to kiss Jon on his way to the loo, so Theon stays seated, heaving such a frustrated sigh Robb gives him a half amused, half pitying look. Bran nudges Theon in the side when it’s his turn to draw one of the items on his card. They’re in one team, and if Bran wants one thing it’s winning, so Theon grabs a pen, concentrating on drawing the word _roundabout_ in a way Bran is sure to recognize. Bran nudges him again, and Theon indignantly lifts his head. 

“What? I’m doing what I can, give me a moment!” 

But Bran isn’t looking at the admittedly crude drawing, he’s nodding at the doorway, then at Theon, eyebrows raised. Theon frowns, confused, but when he follows Bran’s gaze the pen drops onto the paper. Jon is standing _right in the doorway_ , looking for all the world like he forgot how to enter the living room again. And suddenly the fuse in Theon’s head busts. He scrambles to his feet, knocking Rickon over in his haste to get to the door and to Jon, looking at him with big, way too innocent eyes. 

“What,” he says, lifting his eyebrows when Theon has finally stumbled right in front of him, breathing like a steam train. “Anything the matter?” 

Not even bothering with an answer, Theon reaches out, grabbing Jon’s hips with both hands and pulling him close, and to the chorus of whoops, cheers, and a groan that sounds suspiciously like Arya, Theon lowers his mouth onto Jon’s. 

His lips are just as soft as Theon always imagined, warm and sweet, and it takes a lot of self-restraint to not just plunder that sweet mouth like he wants to, but after a long, agonizing moment Theon moves back again. Jon is standing perfectly still, eyes wide and pupils blown. 

“Mistletoe,” Theon says as a way of explanation. 

He hasn’t moved his hands from Jon’s hips yet, warmth bleeding through the fabric onto his palms, and a part of him wants to stay like this forever. 

“I know,” Jon says, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I thought maybe that’s what it takes to finally give you an excuse to – mmph!”

Theon’s eyes fall shut; he smiles against Jon’s mouth, opening under his and letting him in, and _fuck_ if this doesn’t feel fantastic, even better than the first kiss. Theon’s fingers wander under the hem of Jon’s jumper, creeping beneath his tee and splaying out on his soft skin as he deepens the kiss, licking into Jon’s mouth, sucking on his lip, his fingertips swirling in tiny circles until Jon shudders, breaking away with a gasp. 

“Gods,” he whispers hoarsely, “we shouldn’t – not _here_ – the others, I mean–” 

“Yeah, maybe we should take this elsewhere.” Theon grins, reluctantly looking away from Jon and over his shoulder. “We should – oh.” 

The living room is empty, the door to the garden open. 

“I think they deserted,” Jon states, sounding equally amused and mortified. He looks down on where Theon’s hands disappear under his clothes, still stroking him gently, and Jon shudders delicately. “I guess that was a little much?” 

“All the better.” Theon smirks, letting his fingers wander to the small of Jon’s back, sliding them into his trousers. “I had a _lot_ of time thinking about what to do to you once I finally got my hands on you, and now that I have...” 

“And all it took was five years and a mistletoe.” 

Jon raises himself on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Theon’s neck and pressing their mouths together once again, his tongue doing things that make Theon see stars. When they finally part again he’s out of breath, hard as a rock and ready to take Jon here and now. 

“You know _you_ could’ve done something sooner too, right?” he pants, making an unwilling noise when Jon takes a step back. 

“Sure.” Jon smiles, turning to go. “But where would have been the fun in that?”

He’s not wrong, Theon muses as he follows Jon upstairs and into his bedroom, where he promptly kisses him again. It _had_ been fun, the looks, the tension, the flirting... He pulls Jon’s jumper over his head, his tee, letting his fingers and lips take in all that is now his to explore. It had been exciting, thrilling. A low moan from Jon’s throat makes Theon tremble in anticipation. Now the _real_ fun begins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a greysnow kiss ficlet with a christmassy setting, or have some other christmassy or wintery prompt, please come find me on tumblr or post in the comments :)


	3. Turkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha!! I at last managed to keep one of these shorter! 
> 
> kisses prompt from @salty-wench on tumblr: breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

“This is going to be a bloody disaster!” 

Theon watches Jon tear through the kitchen like a small but violent tornado, flitting between pots and pans and the kitchen counter, stirring here, salting there and generally exuding an air of utter chaos. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Theon says without much hope. “Everything’s going to turn out perfectly.” 

“The turkey is _dry,_ ” Jon hisses, rushing over and ripping the oven door open. 

A cloud of steam rises out and Jon takes an oven cloth, pulling out the roasting pan with the turkey sizzling merrily in it. To Theon it looks just perfect, lovely colour, juicy and smelling utterly delicious. Jon doesn’t look too happy though, ladling roast juice over the bird with grim determination. 

“It’s a disaster,” Job whines again, back at the stovetop and peering into the pot with the mashed potatoes, mashing them some more before he turns around with a pitiful pout on his face. “There are _clumps_ in this and I can’t make them go away, and the soup is too salty, and the pigs won’t go in their blankets, and the _cranberries_ –”

“Sssh!” Theon makes, clamping one hand over Jon’s mouth. “You’re driving yourself crazy over nothing, and me too. You’re the best cook I’ve seen since Catelyn, and that means a _lot_.” 

He removes his hand from Jon’s mouth, but before he can say anything, Theon shuts him up with a kiss. Jon tastes amazing, like a whole Christmas menu, spicy and sweet and warm, and for the fraction of a moment Theon almost forgets about the guests they’re expecting for lunch, wanting to let the turkey go to fuck and drag Jon into the bedroom. 

“Mmmh,” Jon makes, breaking the kiss, but he doesn’t back away, his lips moving against Theon’s in a devastatingly delicious way. “You’re only saying that because I’m sleeping with you.” 

“It’s one of the reasons I am sleeping with you,” Theon murmurs back, and when Jon’s mouth opens to protest under Theon’s he dives back in, eliciting a groan from Jon that sets his nerves aflame. The kiss seems to go on and on and on, until suddenly there’s a sizzling sound behind them and Jon breaks away with a horrified gasp, turning around in Theon’s arms so fast it makes him sway.

“Oh fuck, the soup!” Jon quickly lifts the lid from the overflowing pot, stirring as if his life depends on it. “I swear to the gods, Greyjoy, if the soup is burned now because of you, I’m very much done sleeping with you!” 

He turns back, presenting a large spoonful of soup to Theon with a grim expression. Theon obediently closes his lips around the spoon, swallowing a mouthful of delicious, totally _not_ burned pumpkin cream soup before he smiles, licking his lips. 

“I think you can take that off the heat, it’s perfect.” He reaches around Jon to switch off the plate the soup is standing on. “Potatoes without clumps are dumb, the turkey needs another twenty minutes before you have to baste it again, and I’m personally going to get those pigs in the blankets for you… if you promise me to fucking relax now.” 

“Hm.” 

Jon regards Theon with a suddenly cheeky look in his eye, mouth puckered up as if he’s thinking hard, and suddenly his spoonless hand surges out, snatching Theon’s collar and pulling him down against his mouth for a rather different kind of kiss, hot and wet and making Theon squirm by the time Jon breaks it.

“Twenty minutes you said?” he mutters close to Theon’s mouth, placing another tiny kiss to his lips. “You ought to help me relax then.” 

“Ah,” Theon says, nipping at Jon’s bottom lip before he goes down on his knees right there in the kitchen, fumbling Jon’s belt open. “But don’t you dare blame me if you’ve forgotten all about the turkey once I’m done with you.” 

“Turkey?” Jon murmurs, his hands sliding into Theon’s hair. “What turkey?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are still some kisses prompts I haven't done, if anyone wants to have a look I recently reblogged it on tumblr :)


	4. Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo on Sunday! I spent all day yesterday wrapping xmas presents (that I'm going to spend all of Christmas Eve delivering to various relatives' doorsteps since family gatherings are cancelled, like a very disgruntled UPS guy) and had an inspiration flash lol 
> 
> anon prompt on tumblr: kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

“Are you still not done?” 

Jon sighs when Theon only hums instead of answering properly. Not that he needs to, the answer is there in the wobbly mountain of still-to-be-wrapped gifts, the rolls of wrapping paper littering the floor, and not least the look of utter concentration on Theon’s face. He’s wearing Jon’s glasses, a little askew, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he meticulously folds another corner of paper around a box of Legos. 

“Is this for Rickon?” Jon asks, planting himself on the armrest of the couch next to Theon. “Good choice, he’ll love it.” 

“Hmmmm…” 

Jon heaves another sigh. Theon’s been wrapping gifts ever since he got up, way too early, and when Jon had woken up later, happy to have the day off and in the mood for a little morning sex, the other side of the bed had been cold and there had been paper rustling in the living room. 

“Don’t you want to have breakfast? Do the rest of them later?” Jon leans over, stroking a lock of hair behind Theon’s ear and placing a kiss on his neck right beneath. “We could start breakfast right here…” 

Jon places a path of little kisses from Theon’s ear to his cheek, the last one landing on the corner of Theon’s mouth. Theon blinks, distractedly tilting his head and kissing into the air before he mutters something unintelligible, putting a bit of tape onto the paper and turning the package around on the table.

“I could do with a bite,” Jon tries again, following his words with an actual, gentle bite to Theon’s jaw before kissing the side of his mouth again, lingering for a moment. 

“Hmmm,” Theon says, turning his head and pursing his lips just enough for Jon to be able to kiss him before he looks down again, a concentrated frown creasing his forehead as he folds one side of the paper over the other. 

“Theooon…” 

Jon is aware he sounds whiny, but he’s annoyed. It’s the first day of the Christmas holidays, he’s got two weeks off, and he intends to spend every minute of those two weeks that aren’t spent in company wrapped around Theon like a tree snake. The year has been shite enough, loads of work and way too much time apart, and now he wants to enjoy the company and cock of his boyfriend, goddammit. Desperation growing, Jon starts to shower the side of Theon’s face he can reach with more kisses, his neck, his ear – receiving nothing but another hum and another bloody air kiss in return. 

“Alright, you’re asking for it.” 

Jon swings his foot over the armrest, shuffling and moving until he’s seated directly behind Theon, plastered to his back. Jon bends forward, pushing Theon’s hair from his nape and nosing at the spot before he places a wet, open-mouthed kiss to it, satisfied when goosebumps appear on Theon’s skin. Theon twitches, humming lowly once again and, encouraged, Jon repeats it, just an inch to the left, 

“What–” Theon stills, a visible shiver running through him. He turns around as good as he can, peering down at Jon from the corner of his eyes. “Anything the matter, Snow?”

Jon rolls his eyes, grabbing Theon’s face and almost breaking his neck as he pulls him against his mouth. Theon makes a choked sound, breaking away with a gasp and skidding forward to be able to properly turn around. He takes one look at Jon’s heated face and a sly grin spreads on his lips; he raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh?” he says, reaching between Jon’s legs. “Are we in the mood for some… _breakfast_?” 

“YES,” Jon grouses, “for about _five fucking hours!”_

“Well, I guess I can take a little break…” Theon leans forward, kissing Jon in a way that shouldn’t be allowed before moving back again. “But we’ll have to make it quick, I still have seventeen presents to wrap – Snow? Jon, where the fuck are you going?” 

“Wank,” Jon hisses, extracting himself from Theon’s arm and climbing off the couch. “I’m going to have a _wank._ You do your presents, and I’m having a wank. A LONG one,” he shouts over his shoulder as he heads for the bedroom. “I’m going to take the GHERKIN we need for the SALAD and then I’m going to – aaah!!” 

Fortunately the bed is right there for Jon to land on when Theon viciously tackles him from behind, his hands pulling Jon’s briefs down before he can even blink. 

“Gherkin,” Theon hisses in Jon’s ear, “ _Gherkin??”_ He spreads Jon’s thighs with a violent push, slotting in place above him. “Well, fuck those presents and fuck _you!_ ” 

“Yes, please,” Jon groans, and then he shuts up. 

Finally the holidays can really start. 


	5. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening/morning/etc! 
> 
> A lovely anon on tumblr requested a sequel to The Office - Xmas lunch at the Starks' and Jon's turn to say Now (and Theon's turn to bend over)

“Now.” 

“Excuse me?” Theon turns his head, giving Jon a disbelieving look. “We haven’t even – we’re in your uncle’s driveway! Your uncle who is my boss! If someone looks out the windows–”

“Tsk,” Jon tuts, rolling his eyes. “If you’re already freaking out in the _driveway_ , we better call it off. I sure as hell won’t force you into anything you’re too craven to – oh – okay–” 

Theon grumbles around Jon’s dick, rapidly hardening in his mouth. The position is not the most comfortable one, with the gear stick poking his chest and the steering wheel inches above his head – and of course the very real possibility that at any given moment his boss could look out the window and see his Assistant Junior Head giving his bloody nephew and favourite intern – well, head. Not that Ned Stark hasn’t seen a lot worse stuff, Theon tells himself, swallowing around Jon’s dick and eliciting a moan from him. 

And, after all, deal is deal, and since Jon has beautifully fulfilled his side of the deal at the office Christmas party, Theon feels he doesn’t have any grounds to protest. Not if he wants to keep his boyfriend. And so Theon doubles his efforts, bobbing his head and licking and sucking until Jon groans, stiffening and spilling down Theon’s throat. Theon pulls off once Jon’s dick has stopped twitching, shifting back into the passenger seat. He’s still hard himself, but the way in which Jon checks his hair in the rearview mirror tells him that no reciprocation will be forthcoming. And really, after plucking a stray curl back into shape, Jon sighs, patting Theon’s thigh and making him jump. 

“That was lovely, thank you. Ready?” 

“Nowhere near,” Theon grouses as he wipes his mouth and climbs out of the car. “Let’s get this over with.” 

They walk to the door, Jon without a care in the world, Theon hunched over to conceal his raging boner. Jon rings the bell, and a few seconds later the door is ripped open and a very small someone slumps right into Jon, squealing and squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“Oomph,” Jon makes, hugging the girl before holding her an arm’s length away. “Don’t kill me before I’ve even set foot inside. Have you met? Arya, this is Theon, my boyfriend. Theon, my cousin Arya, Ned’s younger daughter.”

“Hi, nice to see you again,” Theon says, holding out his hand and hunching over some more. “You look a lot like your dad.” 

“And you look a lot like the guy Robb used to sometimes hang out with,” she says, eyebrows pulled into a frown that looks just like Jon’s. “Working your way through the whole clan, are you?”

“Ah,” Theon says. He can practically feel Jon’s gaze burning a hole into him. “It wasn’t like – we’re just friends, alright? Nothing like, uh, like with Jon.” 

Jon and his cousin both don’t seem convinced, and to his horror Theon feels his cheeks growing hot under their twin stares of disapproval. It’s not even a lie, really, even though he might’ve had one daydream or another way back in ye olden days, before Theon started working for Robb’s dad – and before Jon stumbled into his office, clutching a can of coffee and a stack of files and looking so ridiculously hot… Theon sighs, flinching when his already aching cock twitches at the thought.

He follows Jon and Arya into a hallway where they take off their coats and shoes before continuing into the living room. They’re greeted by a chorus of hellos and welcomes, and Ned Stark gets up from the couch, hand outstretched as he comes towards them. 

“Lads, it’s good to see you!” He shakes Theon’s hand and pulls Jon into a brief hug. “We should be ready to eat in a few minutes… Theon, you know everyone?” 

Vaguely. Boner finally subsiding, Theon waves at Robb’s siblings, grouped around a massive flatscreen showing what looks to be an animated film about a talking, red Christmas tree bauble, but before anyone can say something Robb’s head appears in another doorway. At seeing Theon and Jon his face takes on the colour of the animated bauble, but he does manage a shaky smile. 

“Mum says lunch is served.” 

They all start to file into the kitchen, and finally Theon’s cock seems to calm down a little. That is, until Jon plants his hand firmly on Theon’s arse, squeezing his cheek in a way that makes his cock soar once again – just in time for Theon to find himself in front of Mrs. Stark. 

“Welcome,” she says, smiling a little thinly, and Theon takes her offered hand, praying his palm isn’t too sweaty. 

“Thanks for having us, ma’am,” he says, jumping when Jon’s grip on his arse cheek tightens. 

They sit down around the table, and after a while Theon could almost forget that this is his bosses’ family. Everyone is very loud, very merry, and the food is utterly delicious. Ned Stark is sitting to Theon’s right side, at the head of the table, and by the time they have progressed to dessert he’s making Theon and the others laugh by sharing work anecdotes. At one point Theon looks over at Jon and finds him looking back, a strange mix between fondness and calculation on his face, and Theon questioningly tilts his head. 

_Now,_ Jon mouths, smiling a positively devilish smile. 

And then Theon jolts in his seat when something nudges his thigh, feeling very much like a socked foot creeping between his legs until it reaches his dick, and Theon jumps up as if bitten, stammering an excuse before heading outside. Jon is only a few seconds behind him, pressing Theon against the hallway wall and kissing the everloving fuck out of him. 

“Bathroom,” he finally mutters, and when he gets this tone in his voice Theon knows resistance is futile, so he obediently follows Jon upstairs. 

They have barely reached the first landing when Mrs. Stark’s voice comes from the staircase, immediately followed by Ned Stark’s voice. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t go up there for the next, uh, ten minutes, love.” 

Jon cackles silently, holding a door open for Theon to go through. He finds himself in a spacious bathroom, complete with a walk-in shower _and_ a huge jacuzzi, and for a moment Theon regrets that they don’t have more time. That is, until he remembers where he is, and in whose house. Jon doesn’t hesitate, making short of Theon’s trousers, and before Theon knows it he’s standing bent over the washbasin, with his pants around his ankles and the distinct feeling of déjà vu. Jon drives a hand between Theon’s arse cheeks, humming lowly in approval. 

“There’s a good boy,” he says huskily. 

Theon shivers, at the praise and at the feeling of Jon’s fingers massaging his already slicked and swollen hole. Two fingers push into him and Theon arches his back, congratulating himself on his foresight. This’ll make things so much easier, and hopefully quicker. But then Jon twists his fingers in a way that makes sparks explode before Theon’s eyes and suddenly he doesn’t want it to be fast at all. He bears back, hissing in frustration when Jon’s fingers vanish. 

“Gods, look at you,” Jon murmurs as he lines his dick up with Theon’s hole. “Bent over and ready for me…”

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and then Jon pushes in and Theon moans. Loud. He slaps one hand over his mouth, the other holding on to the washbasin as Jon immediately sets a fast pace, fucking into Theon so hard he can’t help but hold on with both hands to keep himself upright. He tries to keep it down, swallow the groans and cries threatening to spill out of his mouth. Jon’s hands on his hips grip him tighter; he doubles his efforts, slamming into Theon to the point his vision starts to blur. 

Everything feels so intense, so goddamn fucking _good_ Theon can’t hold back anymore, and with an even louder cry he spills into the basin. Jon hisses behind him, his thrusts getting erratic and sloppy until he finally drives in one last time, bottoming out and tensing, hot come filling Theon’s arse. Slowly, Theon loosens his grip on the basin, straightening. Jon’s arms wind around his waist; he noses at Theon’s neck, placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. 

“That was amazing,” he murmurs. “Give me five minutes headstart, okay?” 

Theon mumbles his assent, turning the tap on to wash down the evidence he’s left. When he finally stumbles downstairs, weak-kneed and fucked out, the rest of the family has moved to the dining room. Jon is sitting in between Arya and Bran, holding a steaming mug and blinking up at Theon innocently when he joins them, gingerly sinking into the empty seat next to Ned Stark. 

“Coffee?” he asks, and upon Theon’s nod he leans forward, filling another mug from the can standing on the couch table before holding it out to Theon. “No milk, right?” 

“Uh, no. Thanks,” Theon adds, clutching the mug with both hands. This is bizarre, his boss serving him coffee. “It was so kind of you to invite me,” Theon mumbles.

“Of course, of course.” Ned Stark smiles, turning his body towards Theon. “I have to say, I’m thoroughly impressed with you. I never thought this,” he gestures between Theon and Jon, “would turn into something serious. Would’ve thought you’d see Jon as more of a snack in between than anything else.” 

“And that didn’t bother you?” Theon asks before he can think better of it. “Uh… sir.”

“There’s no need to call me sir in a private setting. Ned is perfectly fine.” The smile widens for a brief moment when Theon chokes on his coffee, only to be gone again immediately. “Of course I was worried. I love Jon like a son. But…” Ned sighs, shaking his head. “He’s an adult, and I trust he knows what he’s doing – or with whom.” Another short-lived smile, another frown. “Don’t get me wrong… should I ever have the impression Jon is being treated with anything but the utmost respect, there’d be dire consequences.” 

“Of course,” Theon mutters, not daring to lift his eyes to Ned’s face. Instead he lets his gaze wander over the other family members – and stops on Robb, glaring at him over the rim of his mug. Theon sighs. “You’re taking it better than your son.”

“Robb? He’ll get over himself.” Ned laughs, reaching over to pat Theon’s shoulder. “You’re doing everything you can to desensitize him – oh, by the way, I think you’re on again.” 

_What?!_ Theon follows Ned’s gaze over to Jon, who’s wagging his eyebrows furiously, nodding his head at the door to the garden. _Oh dear god._

“Er – that’s not – I mean–” 

“You better hurry,” Ned says cheerfully. “Don’t muck up my shed.”

And with that he turns away from Theon and to his daughter Sansa sitting on his other side. Theon blinks, but another look at Jon’s face and the impending doom on it has him on his feet rather quickly. 

After getting fucked in the garden shed, and giving Jon another blow job in the guest room, Theon is thoroughly exhausted, grateful when Jon declares it time to go. 

“Fuck,” Theon says when they walk to the car after saying goodbye, “I feel like I’ve had an encounter of the third kind.” 

“That bad?” Jon grins, holding the passenger door open for Theon. “I quite liked it. Parading you as my fuck toy for once, instead of the other way round. They like you.” 

“I’m not too sure about that,” Theon mutters, trying to sit in a way that’s not too uncomfortable. “Your cousin Arya–” 

“She likes _me,”_ Jon says smugly. “But Uncle Ned definitely likes you. And Robb – well he _does_ still like you. I think. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about him. He’ll get used to it.” 

“He better.” Theon sighs, shifting in his seat under Jon’s amused gaze. “We’re having a big project coming up in the new year.” 

“Aye, I know. The Umber-Karstark proposition.” Jon smiles in a way that makes Theon’s dick twitch, despite how exhausted he is. “I should get a promotion if that one has the success I’m sure it’ll have.”

“Yes, you’ll get promoted to chief cocksucker,” Theon murmurs, and then he starts when Jon suddenly pulls over on the hard shoulder, putting the hazard lights on. “What? What is it?” 

Jon grins, looking very satisfied with himself. 

“Now.”

_Oh dear fucking god._


	6. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo! 
> 
> I know it's a teensy bit after Christmas, but technically - traditionally - Christmas lasts until January 6th, and I do still have some prompts left... 
> 
> This one I actually wanted to post on Christmas Eve but then things got hectic and I was totally knackered (for four days *achem*), so here it is, a little late, but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> prompt coming from @imacreepygirl: A fluffy one: could be the cliche of "I don't want anything for Christmas so don't worry" but Theon wants to be a good boyfriend so he bought something extra special (maybe it take him a lot because he wants to surprise Jon but nothing is good enough) and Jon end up crying at the end because he doesn't expect that
> 
> Of course I had to twist it into Theon being an abominable boyfriend XD

“Are we still on for Boxing Day?” 

Theon tries to focus his gaze on Robb, not an easy feat since he’s hanging upside down over the side of his bed, while Robb is sitting on the carpet.

“Sure. I just wish I could somehow get out of the family do on Christmas Day.” Theon sighs. “Ash said she’ll murder me dead if I don’t show my face.” 

“Poor you. And Christmas Eve?” 

“Ah.” Theon levers himself into a more upright position, tucking his legs under him. “I’m having… plans.” 

“You’re over at Jon’s,” Robb says smugly. “You’re at your _boyfriend’s._ ” 

“Shshsssh!” Theon makes, throwing a wary glance in Arya’s direction. She’s sitting in Robb’s gaming chair, looking very occupied with blowing aliens to smithereens, but still. “You know–”

“Don’t worry, Squidward,” Arya says loudly. “As long as Jon is adamant he wants you around I’m not going to kill you.” 

“How reassuring,” Theon mutters. 

“There you have it.” Robb laughs. “What are you getting your _boyfriend_ for Christmas, by the way?” 

“Do you have to keep calling it – nevermind,” Theon sighs when something like a hiss sounds from Arya’s direction. “Nothing. He said he doesn’t want anything.” 

For a moment there’s silence, then a clatter as Arya drops the controller to the floor. She swivels the chair around, glaring at Theon in a way that makes him want to jump out of the window. 

“ _What?”_ she bellows, leaning forward so threateningly Theon almost takes up Robb’s duvet to shield himself. “Repeat that.” 

“What?” Theon leaves the duvet where it is, raising his hands. “He’s said it a lot, actually. That he doesn’t want anything, that – well.” To his horror Theon feels his face heating up. “That being with me is all he could ever want.” 

“Gods know why,” Arya mumbles while Robb makes loud cooing noises. “I think we should all pool our money and get him a joint gift. A visit to the shrink!” 

“Naww, I think it’s romantic.” Robb grins, wagging his eyebrows. “But yeah, you should still get him a gift, Theon. It’s what _boyfriends_ do.” 

Is it? Theon shrugs. He’s got no idea what the boyfriend role entails. Despite his ripe old age of twenty-five, this _is_ the first time he finds himself in such a situation. 

“What did you get him for his birthday?” Robb asks, tapping his fingers on the floor. “You were already dating then, right?” 

“Ah.” Theon throws Arya another glance before he swallows. “It was something like a coupon…”

“Know what, I changed my mind, I’m murdering you after all,” Arya declares darkly. “It’s not a gift if it’s something he gets _all the fucking time!_ ”

“And what,” Theon asks, giving up, “what the everloving fuck am I supposed to get him? Christmas Eve is tomorrow, for fuck’s sake!” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Now, Arya,” Robb says scoldingly. “Cut him some slack, it’s his first time having a _boyfriend_ for Christmas. Theon…” He turns his gaze on Theon, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It should be something special. Something meaningful, aye? I know my cousin, and while he’d never let on I’m sure he would be devastated not to get anything from his _boyfriend_.” 

“I’m going to start asking for money everytime you say the word,” Theon mutters, making a face.

He’s starting to feel a little sick. Not because of the label, more like because they’re right. What was he even thinking? Of course he should’ve gotten Jon something. Jon deserves a gift. Jon deserves _all_ the gifts. With a low groan, Theon slumps backwards, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s the worst fucking _boyfriend_ ever. 

“Fear not,” Arya’s foghorn voice blares into Theon’s internal despair. “Just to be clear, I’m not doing this for you, only because Jon is absurdly fond of you and I don’t want his heart to break on _fucking Christmas Eve.”_

Theon sits up so quickly he gives himself a headrush, hopefully staring at Arya’s smug face. 

“I have an idea,” she says.

~

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” 

Theon scoffs. Jon’s eyes are wide with excitement, his cheeks a lovely red, his smile so, so beautiful. It would have been a shame, not getting to see him like this. Theon fingers the gift he got from Jon, a snow globe with a picture of the two of them inside. Which is a little tacky, and altogether very lovely, and he very much intends to keep it on his bedside table whenever Jon doesn’t stay over at Theon’s flat. 

Theon watches as Jon carefully opens the large envelope containing the gift, something like nervousness rising uncomfortably in his stomach. Talk about tacky… Theon only hopes Arya knows her cousin well enough to be sure he’ll like it. Jon tilts his head, frowning down at the paper he’s pulled out of the envelope. Printing it had been rather difficult, what with work already closed for Christmas, and Theon shudders as he remembers his trip to the library and its colour printer ten minutes before closing today at lunchtime. 

“Oh, it’s – Jon turns the paper in his hands before looking up, slightly confused. “I’m sorry… what is it?” 

“Amapofthesky,” Theon mutters, sighing when Jon’s confused frown deepens. “It’s a map of the sky. Here. Like, above us?” He shrugs, looking away. “The way the sky looked on the night we first kissed.” 

There, he’s said it. Terrible, corny, nausea-inducing – Theon’s head swivels around when Jon mutters an excuse and gets to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste to leave the living room. What in the fucking… Theon pulls out his phone, hastily typing a message:

 **Theon:** he left the room!! literally ran away!! what have i done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? 

The answer comes promptly. 

**TinyMenace:** if you don’t go after him immediately I’m going to come over and rip your heart out. not kidding. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Theon mutters, stuffing the phone back into his pocket and clambering to his feet. Go after him, she’s funny… what if Jon is pissed because he thinks the fucking map is a horrible gift? What if he’s on the phone right this very moment, calling a cab for Theon to be rid of him and his corny, obviously last-minute gift – Theon pauses in the doorway when he hears something like a sniffling sound coming from the kitchen. Oh fucking fuck, maybe Jon is actually hurt by the blatant disregard Theon – his _boyfriend –_ is showing for him, and that on Christmas, and now he’s crying in the kitchen! 

Horrified at the thought, Theon rips the door open, barging in. Jon is standing at the kitchen window, dabbing a piece of paper towel against his eyes. At Theon’s dramatic entrance he looks up, eyes red and cheeks wet, and Theon surges forward, burying Jon in a crushing embrace. 

“I’m so sorry – it’s dumb, I know, I’m so – Jon, talk to me, please don’t be mad, I swear next year I’ll do better!” 

“Better?” Jon surfaces from Theon’s hug with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “What do you mean, better? Theon…” He shakes his head, freeing his arm and noisily blowing his nose with the piece of paper towel. “This is the sweetest gift I ever got and I – did you actually think I didn’t like it?”

“You ran away,” Theon points out. “You’re crying in your kitchen!” 

“Tears of pure joy,” Jon mutters. “I would never have thought… you know… coming from _you_ …” 

He promptly wells up again and Theon groans, pulling Jon closer, pressing his cheek to his hair. 

“I’ve been an abominable boyfriend if you’re _that_ surprised when I’m giving you a gift,” he grumbles, half embarrassed, half angry. “So you like it? It’s not horrible and blergh and way too tacky?” 

“I love it, you muppet,” Jon garbles into Theon’s sweater. “I love _you_.” 

“Ah,” Theon says, heat rising in his chest. “I mean. Cool. Glad we got that – uh.” 

It’s not as if that’s much of a surprise, really. They’ve been dating for almost a year now, have been _boyfriends_ for over ten months… Theon makes a face. What was it they all blabbered in that gruesome movie? _If you can’t say it at Christmas…_

“Hey, Jon? You know… same.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had lovely holidays! Check this space for a few more ficlets :)


	7. Mulled Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. Hello! Huh.
> 
> It's the sixth and officially the end of all Christmas stuff... and I still haven't gotten around to all prompts. I have one more kissing prompt I'm going to make wintery instead of christmassy, two wintery prompts – but I also have two more xmas prompts. Would you terribly mind if I still did them? Or rather I keep them for xmas 2021? 
> 
> Today's ficlet was an anon prompt on tumblr for the kisses prompts: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

“Give me that damn wine.” 

Jon futilely grabs into thin air, not quite reaching the cup Theon is holding above his head, a smug grin on his face. 

“You gotta try harder than that.” Theon bends his head, smacking a wet kiss directly onto Jon’s mouth and dripping mulled wine all over them in the process. “See, I’m even watering you a bit. Maybe you’ll grow an inch or two?” 

Jon growls, making Theon’s grin widen, and now he’s had it. Theon wants a fight? He can have it! Jon takes a deep breath, arranging his face into a softer expression before he slings his arms around Theon’s neck, pulling him down in the same moment Jon rises on his tiptoes, his mouth slotting right over Theon’s. Jon pours himself into the kiss, pleased when Theon gasps against him, when Theon’s arms come down and wind around Jon’s waist, supporting his weight. 

The cup is in easy reach now, behind Jon’s back, but he tells himself to be patient as he deepens the kiss, licking into Theon’s mouth, nibbling on his lower lip, all the while rubbing himself needily against Theon’s body. Theon groans into Jon’s mouth, his hold on Jon tightening, and Jon wants to howl in triumph when there’s a telltale pressure against his belly. Theon is hard, growing harder the more Jon slides against him. 

“Why don’t we fuck off,” Jon mutters, his lips moving over Theon’s. “We could make it home in about two minutes…” Another short but deep kiss, another strategic push of Jon’s hips. “I could have you naked in three, my mouth on your cock in four…” 

“Yes,” Theon groans, pants, “fuck, yes, please–” 

Jon smiles, slumping back down on his feet, one lightning-fast grab behind him and the cup is in his hands, and Jon steps out of reach, smirking at Theon’s dumb face. 

“Too bad,” Jon says lightly, taking a sip of the meanwhile lukewarm mulled wine. “Too bad I’d rather have another one of these before I’m even thinking of going anywhere near your cock. A  _ hot _ one, Theon.” 

Theon blinks, looking as if he’s having an out-of-body experience. His trousers are spectacularly tented, and while Jon is wearing a thigh-long coat covering his own predicament, Theon in his short jacket looks… exposed. A quick look around tells Jon that several pairs of eyes are on them, the looks on the faces of Winterfell’s market-goers ranging from slightly scandalized to amused to curious, to the resigned expression on Father Luwin’s face. Not as if they’re not used to it, Jon tells himself, but he still can’t help his cheeks growing hot. Whatever. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“Well?” Jon asks, swallowing down the rest of his wine before holding the empty cup out to Theon. “I’m not getting any less thirsty here.” 

Theon swallows, but he does take the cup, and without another word he turns around, trotting towards the mulled wine stall with hanging shoulders, and a slightly wobbly gait. Jon shifts, suppressing the urge to adjust his own, too-tight trousers as he watches Theon order two more cups of mulled wine. He returns, still wobbly, meekly holding one of the cups out to Jon. 

“Thank you.” Jon smiles, carefully taking a sip of piping hot, delicious mulled wine. “Oh, this is good… I’m going to savour this, drink slowly…” 

Theon makes a strangled noise, his eyes wide and pleading, and Jon decides to take pity on him. He takes a step closer, once again raising himself on his tiptoes to reach Theon’s mouth, placing a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips, dropping his voice to a whisper, his words making Theon whimper. 

“And then we’ll go home and I’ll let you come in my mouth.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do tell me if you still want xmassy prompts filled or rather next xmas season :)
> 
> Oh, and a HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of you lovely people!


	8. Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! 
> 
> Sooo, this isn't really that christmassy, more post Christmas, which is rather fitting :) 
> 
> Prompt from a lovely nonnie on tumblr: If you're still making Christmas fanfics what about Theon being the one who gives Jon ghost as a Christmas present but starts to regret after a few days because the puppy is always demanding Jon's attention and interrupting Theon's sexy times
> 
> Nonnie, I hope you like it!
> 
> I know, I know, Ghost is named Ghost because he's so SILENT - well, for the purpose of this story he's not so silent, but his name is still Ghost, because white lol

“Mmmmm…” 

Jon hums, a lazy, appreciative sound that makes Theon’s skin prickle with arousal. He lets his eyes wander over Jon’s naked body, laid out on the bed like a feast ready to be devoured. Patience, Theon tells himself. They finally have a whole, long weekend just to themselves, they can savour this. So he starts with placing a long, lingering kiss to Jon’s mouth, a slow, meticulous exploration, causing heat to curl in Theon’s stomach. He nips at Jon’s bottom lip, relishing the gasp this earns him before kissing along Jon’s jaw, down his neck, to his chest–

“Oh!” Jon’s eyes fly open as he hastily sits up, crushing Theon’s face into his pecs. “Did you hear that?” 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Theon grouses, rubbing his squished nose. “Lay back down, I was just getting sta–”

“Shshsh!” 

Jon waves a hand, listening intently, and now Theon can hear it too: a small, high-pitched whining coming from the living room. Theon groans, slumping onto his back as Jon hastily scrambles out of bed and into a dressing gown before he vanishes through the door, only to return one minute later with a very happy, very smug looking puppy on his arm. 

“I think he was just lonely,” Jon says, smiling down at the puppy adoringly. 

Theon bites his tongue to not say anything ridiculous, something about how dicks can be lonely too or some other nonsense. Instead he forces a smile, ruffling the fluffy white hair between the puppy’s ears. 

“How about you set him down on the bedside carpet? It’s warm and soft and he’s not alone in the room.” 

“Good idea.” 

Jon sets the puppy down, and both watch it sniff the carpet, then the shirt Jon had discarded earlier, before the little dog snuggles into it, yawning a tiny yawn as its eyes fall shut. 

“See?” Theon breathes a sigh of relief. “A fluffy carpet and your delicious smell…” 

“Oh?” Jon grins, climbing back into bed and straddling Theon’s hips. “I smell delicious?” 

“Stupid question,” Theon mutters, pulling at Jon’s arms until he complies and settles down, half on top of Theon. He promptly buries his face in Jon’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Very delicious,” he murmurs, “and you taste even better.” 

He latches onto Jon’s skin, sucking and licking and biting until Jon is gasping and squirming against Theon, his hard dick sliding over Theon’s in a marvellous way. 

“How – ooh – how do you want it – ah – today?” Jon asks, not stopping in his grinding down against Theon. “I mean, you’re –  _ fuck  _ – you’re already on your back…” 

“And thus in a perfect position for you to ride my dick,” Theon grins, yelping when Jon bites his chin. “What? You asked!” 

“True.” Jon huffs, pretending it’s a very great hardship as he bends over to reach the lube on the bedside table – and stops mid-move. “Awww, would you look at that?” 

“What? What is it?” Theon cranes his neck, but it isn’t enough to see over the edge of the bed. 

“I think he’s dreaming.” Jon smiles, looking utterly smitten. “His little paws are twitching like mad.” 

_Fucking hell._

“Cute, very cute.” Theon grits his teeth. “But could we maybe get back to fucking?” 

“Sorry.” Jon chuckles, throwing a last glance at the puppy before he settles back into Theon’s lap, lube in hand. “Where were we?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“You were about to ride my – fuck, yes!” Theon groans when Jon’s slicked hand wraps around his dick, bringing it back to full hardness with a couple quick strokes. “Now that’s what I – aaah – what I’m talking about. Come on, Snow, don’t be a tease!” 

“Greedy slut,” Jon mutters, throwing the lube bottle to the side before rising on his knees until he’s positioned over Theon’s dick, and fuck if it doesn’t feel heavenly gliding between his arse cheeks, slick and warm, and Theon moans as his dickhead nudges against Jon’s hole–

“Oh fuck!” 

There’s a clattering sound, a loud yelp, a long-drawn, protesting whine and Theon blinks, his dick bouncing into cool air where a second ago had been Jon’s warm arse. What in the… 

“There, there,” comes Jon’s voice from beside the bed, “poor Ghost, did the bottle hit you on the head? I should’ve put it away properly, stupid me.” 

Slowly, Theon sits up, peering over the side of the bed – at Jon, sitting there crosslegged with his tee covering his crotch and a sniffling puppy snuggled into his chest. 

“I’ll bring you into your basket, aye?” Jon says, stroking the puppy’s tiny ears. “No danger of falling objects there.” 

And with that he gets to his feet and into his robe, and without even as much as a glance in Theon’s direction he marches out, closing the door behind him. Theon sinks back into the pillows, unsure if he wants to scream or cry. And all of that because of one stupid,  _ stupid  _ idea. 

It had been a couple weeks after a very nice, very normal Christmas; way too much food, way too many relatives visiting, lots of very nice, lazy Christmas sex and cute gifts for each other. And then Christmas had been over, and Theon had to go back to work and Jon had to go back to studying for his exam, spending way too much time on his own. Not that he’d ever complain, but Theon knows him. Jon gets lonely, despite having enough friends and family to fill a stadium. 

And then Theon had seen the ad on a billboard on his way to work:  _ Going home? Can I come too? _ With a picture of the saddest cat Theon had ever seen beneath it, and a website url. At lunch break Theon had googled the website, had grown more horrified by the second at the dozens of animals already being dropped off at shelters at mid January, all of them rejected Christmas presents... So when it had been time to go home, Theon’s mind had been made up: Jon gets a dog. A dog gets a home. Win-win.

And really, the look on Jon’s face when he’d seen the tiny puppy’s head poking out of Theon’s jacket… worth it. Totally worth it – if only Theon had known then what he knows now. Puppies are needy as all fuck. 

Sure, Theon had reckoned with a period of acclimatization, for both of them and the dog, which Jon had named Ghost for his white fur. But he definitely hadn’t reckoned with  _ this,  _ and for a moment Theon wonders how many of the shelter animals are there for disturbing sexy times. Not that he’d ever even think of taking Ghost back. That’d be the end of all sexy times for the rest of his life, and then Theon couldn’t bring himself to anyway. It’s not the dog’s fault that Jon turns out to be a helicopter mum. Theon sighs, consolingly patting his neglected, wilted dick. Patience. The dog will grow and learn to be on his own, surely. Jon, on the other hand…

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” The door flies open and Helicopter-Jon comes in, an apologetic smile on his face. “I think he’s okay now, if you still want to…” 

“Black Hawk Down,” Theon mutters, earning a bemused glance from Jon as he settles on the bed. “The mood is pretty dead, Snow.” 

“Is that so.” Jon pokes at Theon’s flaccid dick, tilting his head to the side before he bends forward, licking his lips. “Seems I have a lot to make up for…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two minutes later, all is forgiven :)
> 
> Guys, I can't NOT say this on a story like this: Adopt, don't shop! Spay or neuter your pets! Don't get animals as xmas presents if you wouldn't adopt them anyway, at any time!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, I'd be forever grateful to hear from you - comments and kudos do make wonderful xmas presents for me 😘 
> 
> If you have a prompt for a small christmassy (or wintery, if you don't celebrate xmas) fic, please do tell me! I can't promise to write them all, but I'll do my very best!


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